The One
by DiscoUnicorn
Summary: Three one-shots centering around how one woman impacts three of my favorite shinigamis' lives. ShunsuiXoc, HisagiXoc, and ByakuyaXoc
1. Kyoraku

He loved her. His brown eyes gazed down at the serene face hidden behind a tangle of curls. His long black hair fell over his shoulder and assisted in the hiding of her beautiful brown face. His index finger moved slowly as he delicately swept several ebony colored curls from her face. Why did he love her? He stared at the soft curves of her body and the rather large feet. His index finger traced the angle of her jaw. She moved slightly, burying her face deeper into the pillow of black hair. He moved closer to her and leaned forward. Her breath was warm on his face and smelled of sake and strawberries. He kissed her gently and was rewarded an almost inaudible moan as she obliged him. Her olive colored eyes stared at him for several seconds before she blushed and turned to the wall. His lips brushed her shoulder as he moved even closer and draped his arm over her waist. Why did he love her?

He thought of the first time he had seen her, running from Kenpachi's lieutenant with a large smile and a mass of dark curls flying out behind her. It had been that moment of complete happiness that had made him notice her. He'd been in the process of telling Nanao about his meeting with the Old Man when his words caught in his throat, and he could do nothing but stare. She breezed by him in a swirl of darkness and vanilla. Her eyes had darted to him for less than a second before she turned, laughed, and continued her escape. Nanao had promptly cleared her throat and nudged him in the back. He nodded and continued with his instructions.

The first time she had acknowledge him, she was wearing white hakama and a strange yellow shirt with ruffles at her neck. Her curly hair was piled on her head sloppily. She stood in the gym with her arms crossed over her chest glaring at an angry Yumichika. He told her that her personality was ugly. She laughed and told him that his wig was ugly. They flew at one another with complete disregard for their surroundings. She had him on his back several seconds later; her foot rested on her chest as she laughed. Her eyes had found him on the other side of the room. She simply lifted her chin slightly before picking up her bag and leaving.

He pressed his face into her soft hair and inhaled deeply. Why was he so in love with her? She turned to him slowly, eyes drenched in innocence and lips slightly swollen. Her lips covered his as she pressed her body along his and wrapped her arms around his neck. She breathed deeply at his chest and kissed him there. Her fingers wove through the his black hair as if she were caressing strings from the midnight sky. Her breath came out in a soft whoosh as she fell onto her back and he covered her. Her fingers pressed into the skin of his back as he entered her. His eyes widened a fraction when her eyelids fluttered closed and a look of pure bliss shadowed her face. Her hands moved lower as her hips rose to meet his. He felt her reaching for the moment she lived. Her eyes opened and a light he had never seen before fell upon him. Her fingers brushed his face as she leaned forward and whispered, "I love you."


	2. Hisagi

She was the reason he had been able to carry on. Her laughter felt like rain on hot summer days. Her breath against his skin was a breeze on a warm spring day. Her hands were blankets of snow covering desert land. Her eyes were the sun, bringing light into the darkness he owned as a reality. He stood in the mirror staring at her reflection. She lay on the bed, short hair in disarray. Her arms were folded neatly underneath the pillow and her shoulders rose with each breath she took. Hisagi looked at his reflection and felt the hollowness he had worked so hard to squash begin to grow again. He rested his flat palms on the wooden dresser and inhaled deeply. He held the air in his lungs until it hurt. The air rushed from his body in a strained manner that sounded like a whistle. He had a habit of believing in people that went bad. He had a habit of believing in people that died. He had a habit of caring about people that left him. He had a habit. He had.

The air caught in his chest when her hands brushed his naked skin as she snaked her arms around him. Her cheek rested against the warm expanse of his back as she pressed against him. He felt the wetness coming from her eyes against his skin before he looked up into the mirror to see the sadness on her face. His hands trembled as he touched hers. She tightened her grip on him and pressed her face into his back.

"Don't." Her voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else. Her skin was hot, as if the sun from her eyes had immersed itself within her core. He knew that heat.

He let her hold him. He let her cry for him. He let her cradle his face and kiss his neck. He lifted her so that she sat on the wardrobe. Her large, olive colored eyes were filled with more emotions than one person should have been able to handle. Her fingers dug into his hair as he cradled her hips and entered her. She inhaled deeply and moaned against his neck. He let her take his emotions and purge them from herself in pools of salty tears. He let himself get lost in the hot wetness of her and the intensity of the emotions building within her. Her head fell back and the soft, thick curls of her short hair brushed the mirror behind her as her back arched and she thrust against him. Her pleasure caused her body to clench around him in ecstasy. A soft whimper escaped her lips as she sighed against his neck. He let himself get lost within her. Soft, full pink lips brushed his collar bone as she tilted her face towards him. He let himself get lost in her eyes. Their lips met, and the heat from her body poured into him like thick, burning lava. He hissed slightly as he flinched, but her grip on him tightened, and she shook her head. He collapsed against her in a moment of sorrow and pleasure that caused his body to tremble. Her body drank all of him. He allowed himself to get lost in the vanilla scent of her. He allowed himself to get lost. He allowed himself to get. He allowed himself to. He allowed himself. He allowed.


	3. Byakuya

They were nothing. His dark eyes and perfectly angled face were stoic as he spoke the words to her. His right palm was flat on the floor beside his leg, which was folded underneath him. His dark eyes searched her face before he lifted his cup of tea and sipped. He expected her to react differently. She was supposed to scream, shout, hit, kick, and fight. Instead, she simply nodded and lifted her own cup to her lips. Her gaze met his over the rim of her expensive tea cup. Time seemed to freeze as he watched her toss the hot liquid in his face. He cringed and rubbed his eyes; she always took lemon juice and honey in her tea. He heard his sword sliding across the floor and away from him. He felt her fist slam into his stomach like a block of steel crushing a thin street of iron. He inhaled quickly and rolled away from her. She was insane. He had known it the moment he saw her walking with the Shihouin princess all those years ago.

Her foot slammed down on the floor, purposely missing his head. She turned like a ballerina, and her left foot landed squarely on his right hand. She leapt away and turned to him with a look of deep concern. He moved forward so quickly that he almost caught her off guard. She smiled and turned out of his reach just in time. The pain in his eyes blared to life as his right hand clamped down on her wrist. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to the ground, making sure that he took most of the damage. Ignoring the pain pulsating in his hand, he ripped the black kimono she wore from her skin and covered her mouth with his own. She shoved him away and laughed as he toppled over. He crushed one of the cups he had received as a wedding gift years earlier. His gaze swept her naked frame as she stood over him. A mischievous smile stretched her lips as she dropped to her knees. The heat of his gaze made her fall forward with laughter. He touched her thighs and lifted his head so that his mouth was a mere inch from her. He kissed her inner thigh and smiled when she groaned above him. His tongue brushed her slowly and gently. She gazed down at him for a fraction of a moment before pressing herself against his face and bursting into laughter. Her joy was cut short as he began to suck and nibble on her. She made an attempt to move away from him, but his hands clamped down on her thighs. He held her in place as he continued to torture her with his tongue. She leaned back and cried out as she was hit by an orgasm. He licked her juices from his face as he pinned her to the floor and thrust into her. Her body trembled underneath him as he moved with skills she often complimented him on.

He lifted himself on his hands and sucked her nipples until they were hard as pebbles. He thrust harder and pulled the white ribbon that held her curly hair in a bun. It cascaded over her shoulders and down to her flat stomach in soft ebony. He flipped her over and grabbed a handful of her hair as leverage as he thrust into her. She cried out and nearly fell over as another orgasm came over her. He wanted her to say his name. She yelled everything else in the world, but she'd never said his name aloud. Never whispered it to him. She had never said his name with adoration or love the way she said Yoruichi or Kisuke or even Kyoraku. He shoved her against the floor as he spilled himself inside of her. They were nothing. He made to pull away from her, but she snatched him back and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Byakuya." Her voice was a whisper that he'd heard only once. She pressed a kiss into his cheek and smiled sleepily. His lips brushed her forehead.

She was everything.


	4. Disclaimer

I forgot to put this on the chapters!!!!

Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me, except Bree. I don't own anything related to Bleach. Everything else is my own. I think I'm going to write a story for Bree. I like her.


End file.
